M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Melancholy and sorrow permeate the air, almost as potent as the herds of bison that graze the lands during the summer months. Troves of creatures larger than herself blunder through fields of grass so green and beautiful she is sure that she does not have a color vibrant enough to capture it in a picture. Maybe she could make one. It would make for a lovely picture, Moira thinks, looking down from a hill upon the cows and their calves that frolic through fields without a worry in the world. She likes to imagine she was once as carefree as them, so innocent and untroubled, but Moira knows better than that. From the very beginning she has been unwanted until proven worthy, and what an awfully inspiring reason to have risen among her family than to make them proud. Others would have done it for spite, Estelle surely would have were she not treasured from the very beginning, but the phoenix is not her cousin. Her cousin was not hated for she was born silver and strong, nothing like the winged woman who wears the sunset upon her skin as war paint. Ready to take on the world.
But Moira does not fault her cousin for being so beloved as children, just as she does not blame her now for their exile.
Estelle was cast out. Moira chose to follow. They are not decisions she regrets, for already she's met so many figures who have enriched her life. Memories and photos she treasures almost as much as family, so when she sees a man drenched in the past, she cannot overlook him.
Compassionate, kind...Mo possesses a warm heart that allows her to overlook the wings that Jaeren has tucked neatly to his sides, to simply see a man of gray and white alone and expressionless. Even no expression tells her more than she will let on, more than she shows as she begins her decent down her own hill to skirt the herd of bison and approach him.
She knows he will see her before she comes upon him, and even so she does not care to hide herself or yell forth an introduction. There is such peace today with the wind toying with her tail, running through the buns and braids upon her neck, by her face, lazily pulling at blades of grass until it dances while she moves through it. The phoenix has a pleasant enough expression upon her carmine visage, something agreeable and welcoming. It is not a look as warm as the day today, yet it does not discourage one when they look upon her. It simply is, as though Mo does not care who you are or whence you come, all that matters is you.
So when she comes up the small hill to Jaeren's side, avoiding looking at the wings upon his back that she knows will make her heart race until she freezes like a doe in headlights, there is only kindness that she exudes. "Care for some company?" Rich is the voice that comes forth, a strange complement to the colors of her coat, for it would remind you of the night sky and dreams unanswered.
@Jaeren this is so late, but I hope that's alright !
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
Melancholy and sorrow permeate the air, almost as potent as the herds of bison that graze the lands during the summer months. Troves of creatures larger than herself blunder through fields of grass so green and beautiful she is sure that she does not have a color vibrant enough to capture it in a picture. Maybe she could make one. It would make for a lovely picture, Moira thinks, looking down from a hill upon the cows and their calves that frolic through fields without a worry in the world. She likes to imagine she was once as carefree as them, so innocent and untroubled, but Moira knows better than that. From the very beginning she has been unwanted until proven worthy, and what an awfully inspiring reason to have risen among her family than to make them proud. Others would have done it for spite, Estelle surely would have were she not treasured from the very beginning, but the phoenix is not her cousin. Her cousin was not hated for she was born silver and strong, nothing like the winged woman who wears the sunset upon her skin as war paint. Ready to take on the world.
But Moira does not fault her cousin for being so beloved as children, just as she does not blame her now for their exile.
Estelle was cast out. Moira chose to follow. They are not decisions she regrets, for already she's met so many figures who have enriched her life. Memories and photos she treasures almost as much as family, so when she sees a man drenched in the past, she cannot overlook him.
Compassionate, kind...Mo possesses a warm heart that allows her to overlook the wings that Jaeren has tucked neatly to his sides, to simply see a man of gray and white alone and expressionless. Even no expression tells her more than she will let on, more than she shows as she begins her decent down her own hill to skirt the herd of bison and approach him.
She knows he will see her before she comes upon him, and even so she does not care to hide herself or yell forth an introduction. There is such peace today with the wind toying with her tail, running through the buns and braids upon her neck, by her face, lazily pulling at blades of grass until it dances while she moves through it. The phoenix has a pleasant enough expression upon her carmine visage, something agreeable and welcoming. It is not a look as warm as the day today, yet it does not discourage one when they look upon her. It simply is, as though Mo does not care who you are or whence you come, all that matters is you.
So when she comes up the small hill to Jaeren's side, avoiding looking at the wings upon his back that she knows will make her heart race until she freezes like a doe in headlights, there is only kindness that she exudes. "Care for some company?" Rich is the voice that comes forth, a strange complement to the colors of her coat, for it would remind you of the night sky and dreams unanswered.
@Jaeren this is so late, but I hope that's alright !
